


Pinned

by tonepoem



Category: Machineries of Empire Series - Yoon Ha Lee
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chess, Conversations, Dubious Consent, Flirting, Kujen is more Shuos than the Shuos, M/M, Mentions of Canon Rape, Rival Relationship, Slow Build, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:10:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonepoem/pseuds/tonepoem
Summary: "If you accost my colleague," Kujen said to Jedao, "I'll have no choice but to have you executed.  Spare her and you will live in my service."In my service wasn't promising, but live was.  Live meant he could continue to maneuver.  As long as he drew breath, he could act, and his plans for the future need not die.  Granted, the heptarchs would expect that, so outthinking them would be even more difficult.  But not--surely not--impossible.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vass/gifts).



> Thank you to Elf for the beta, especially the help with chess!
> 
> The chess match itself is cribbed from Botvinnik versus Capablanca, AVRO 1938. All errors are my own.
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Botvinnik_versus_Capablanca,_AVRO_1938
> 
> http://www.chessgames.com/perl/chessgame?gid=1031957

Brigadier General Shuos Jedao was casting his fortune with one of his jeng-zai decks. He had a small collection of them, on the grounds that they were less annoying to maintain than the other things he could be collecting, and easy to transport besides. The one he was using right now had been a New Year's remembrance gift from a fellow cadet at Shuos Academy, years ago. Every single card had blue roses in the borders. From anyone but another Shuos it would have constituted a deadly insult, because of the long-running antipathy between the Shuos and Andan.

"I foresee a torrid love affair in your future," a woman's voice intoned from the doorway.

Jedao kicked himself mentally for leaving the door open, but the ventilation in this space station was faulty and he was trying to get rid of the pervasive smell of pickled cabbage and sweaty old boots. "Hello, Gized," Jedao said without getting up. He smiled up at her. "Did I forget to fill out some of the paperwork for repairs?"

"No," Gized said. "I got bored of the poetry contest I was watching, so I thought I'd see if you were doing something more interesting. You'd think that after a while they'd come up with better rhymes for 'heptarchate.'"

"You'd be a much better judge of that," Jedao said. "Literature's not my strong point." He glanced down at the jeng-zai spread. He'd used the Deuce of Gears in the center as his significator. When he'd first learned fortune-casting, he'd used a Knight of Eyes instead, and afterwards any one of the Pages out of a sense of false modesty, but now that he had the damned Deuce as his emblem it seemed only proper to stick to it. "Can I offer you a drink or anything?" He nodded toward his liquor cabinet.

Gized yawned. "No, I think I'll catch up on some sleep. That last battle was a nasty one. I'm so glad I'm not the poor Nirai stuck in the bowels of the fangmoth with a monkey wrench and grease up to their armpits."

"You're so nice."

"I get it from you."

Jedao waved her off. "Goodnight, then, and I'll see you in the morning." The nice thing about being on a station rather than on a planet was that the high calendar morning corresponded very straightforwardly to station time. On planets, the interaction of local orbital periods with the high calendar frequently got messy. Then again, as a soldier Jedao was used to fucked up sleep anyway.

Gized hadn't been wrong. His jeng-zai spread insinuated that he'd have a torrid romantic adventure, complete with poor judgment. Jedao snickered to himself. Given his particular ambitions, he'd done his best to avoid emotional entanglements. They would only get in the way.

He cleaned up the jeng-zai deck and put it back in its ivory case, inlaid with roses of lapis lazuli chased with bright silver. Then he undressed, turned out the lights, and settled into his bunk for the night.

In his dream there was a warm presence by his side. Fair enough. He saw the occasional courtesan because his blood wasn't made of ice the way some of his soldiers claimed, but it had been a while. He supposed he wasn't so old that he was beyond the occasional erotic dream.

The warm presence coalesced into a hand stroking his shoulder, lingering over the muscles there.

 _That's odd,_ Jedao thought. _My shoulder isn't one of my erogenous zones. Unless this is one of those weird dreams where--_

All at once he woke up. He should have been reaching for his Patterner 52, because even in sleep he wore his gun, but instead a pleasant lassitude overcame him. "Who's there?" he asked. Even his voice was hazed with sleep, and not a little pleasure. As someone who was accustomed to coming fully alert at any sign of intrusion, this should have bothered him. The fact that it didn't indicated that something was very wrong, even if he couldn't quite muster the focus to care yet.

"An ally, if you like," said a man's voice out of the darkness: a baritone lower than his own, with a refined and oddly unplaceable accent. Granted, Jedao wasn't under any illusions that he recognized every dialect spoken in the heptarchate, considering how many languages were spoken in an average system. "Don't tense up like that. You'll just give yourself a backache later."

"I'm sorry," Jedao said, "do I know you? Because where I come from, it's rude to sneak into people's sleeping quarters. Especially while they're sleeping."

There was the sound of cloth rustling, and the warmth receded. Then the lights came on, and Jedao saw who had interrupted his sleep: a man with skin finer than porcelain and dark, curly hair framing an androgynously beautiful face. A shirt of sheer black silk threaded through with silver clung to his arms and torso, and he wore perfectly tailored trousers of dark gray. Absurdly, he'd already taken his shoes off. They were at the doorway, pointing toward the bed.

"You don't know me yet," the man said, "but we should get to be friends."

Jedao blinked. "And why is that?"

The man walked back to the bed and sat on its edge. He moved almost like a duelist, that same muscular control and awareness of distance. An alarm at the back of Jedao's head told him that the man was dangerous, even if the threat wasn't physical. "Because I know you're trying to take over the heptarchate."

This required a response. Jedao bolted to his feet with the intent of grappling the strange man. Except his body betrayed him. He stumbled over his feet and sank to the floor. Jedao's heart went cold within him. Not only had the man broken into quarters--admittedly, not that difficult--he'd drugged Jedao.

 _I was so careful,_ Jedao thought muzzily. _How did he find out?_

The man knelt at his side without a trace of fear and stroked the side of Jedao's face. He had extraordinarily beautiful hands, strong and masculine, but with fingers tapering just so. Even in his drugged state, Jedao's pulse quickened at the touch.

"Who are you?" Jedao said, although it came out as a slurred whisper.

The man smiled. "My name is Nirai Kujen. We can talk later, though." He raised his voice and snapped orders.

Other men and women came through the door. Each one wore the black and silver garb of Nirai, although they had the hardened look, not to mention the muscles, of people accustomed to doing violent things in dark passages. In any case, in his current state Jedao was in no condition to resist them.

Keeping his eyes open was becoming more and more difficult. Jedao put up a token struggle as the two tallest and burliest Nirai manhandled him and carried him out the door. _Oh well,_ Jedao thought, _it was a nice life while it lasted._ He was only sorry he wouldn't get to say goodbye to Gized and the rest of his officers.

* * *

Jedao woke sprawled on a couch rather than a bed, although the couch was so soft and spacious that it made no practical difference. He managed to sit up. A strange sweet aftertaste lingered in his mouth, even though he didn't _remember_ eating or drinking anything untoward. Then again, the Nirai had drugs that affected memory, too. The prospect of having ingested some such cocktail should have made him panicky. Instead, all he could work up was a floating sense of concern.

The room he was ensconced in featured wallpaper in soft blue-gray with silvery swirls. Mirrors hung on the walls. It was impossible to escape his reflection. Someone had dressed him in a loose dark shirt and slacks, neither familiar. Curiously, although they'd removed his uniform, they'd left his half-gloves. He puzzled over the anomaly.

A vase of sweet-smelling lavender lilies rested on a nearby ornate table. In the language of flowers they meant _innocence_. The irony made a laugh bubble up in his throat. He suppressed it with an effort.

"I was starting to think that I'd overdosed you," Nirai Kujen said. He was standing at the other end of the room, his shadow falling behind him. This time he wore a tunic and trousers in darkest black, their severe cut complimenting his excellent physique. Jewelry in bright silver winked at his ears, throat, and wrists.

"They'll send out people to look for me, you know," Jedao said, concentrating so he didn't slur so much. A new thought occurred to him. "Unless High General Garit is much more of a sore loser about chess than I thought he was."

Kujen snorted. "If you had any sense, you'd throw your matches. Garit's a sore loser about _everything_."

Jedao frowned. "You know him?"

"Oh yes," Kujen said. "I know all the high generals."

Was Kujen some sort of senior Shuos operative in disguise? Going around dressed in another faction's clothes was taboo, but the nature of spy work necessitated it sometimes. Still, until Kujen provided hard evidence that he outranked Jedao--to the extent that "rank" meant anything among the Shuos, anyway--Jedao had no intention of knuckling under.

That was when Heptarch Shuos Khiaz walked into the room. She was every bit as beautiful as Jedao remembered her, all lush curves and rippling dark hair and those full lips. He could not help but remember her. Years ago he'd fled into the military to escape her, only to discover that there was nowhere he could go.

"Shuos-zho," Jedao said softly and bitterly. He levered himself up from the couch, then bowed as low as he could go without falling flat on his face, given the lingering effects of the drug. He didn't want Khiaz to get the idea that he was defying her, not with her quixotic temper.

Khiaz's smile was not precisely friendly. "That's him all right, Nirai-zho," she said to Kujen. "I look forward to seeing what you do with him."

 _Wait a second._ She'd addressed Kujen with the honorific reserved for a heptarch. Had Heptarch Nirai Ifon died while Jedao was out of it?

"He doesn't understand the situation yet?" Khiaz said to Kujen.

"Yes," Jedao said, "I'd like to know what's going on." Ordinarily he wouldn't have spoken so plainly, but the drug was continuing to muddle his thoughts.

"Ifon is a senior administrator," Khiaz said. "Kujen-zho is the true heptarch. He just prefers to keep a low profile." She looked down at Jedao with contempt. "Did you think I wasn't keeping an eye on you, dearest General? I never _assume_ anyone's loyalty."

"Good to know you're doing your job, then," Jedao retorted, "but I haven't done anything but fight a lot of boring tedious battles. I'd tell you about them, except I'm sure you've already read the reports." Understood them, even. If only she weren't terrifyingly corrupt, he wouldn't have minded serving her in truth.

Kujen laughed indulgently. The sound sent a chill down Jedao's spine.

"There's no more use feigning," Khiaz informed Jedao. "I have all the evidence. You're on extended leave of absence for special duty." Kel Command, of course, would have no choice but to accede, no matter how long he'd served them. In the end, he was still a Shuos, subject to the whims of his heptarch.

The words didn't penetrate, didn't mean anything. Even if he hadn't shifted sideways into the military in order to pursue his hopes of revolution, it was all he had. He wasn't under any illusions that this "extended leave of absence" would have a happy ending. Take his career away and he had nothing left.

Jedao lunged. If she knew, if he was _done_ , he could at least eliminate her on the way out--

"I'll have none of that," Kujen said, smooth and unhurried. "Jedao, stop."

Jedao dropped back into a crouch, still tense, compelled by the absolute confidence of Kujen's voice. "And why should I oblige you?"

Between the two of them, Khiaz watched, smiling with no sign of fear.

"If you accost my colleague," Kujen said to Jedao, "I'll have no choice but to have you executed. Spare her and you will live in my service."

 _In my service_ wasn't promising, but _live_ was. _Live_ meant he could continue to maneuver. As long as he drew breath, he could act, and his plans for the future need not die. Granted, the heptarchs would expect that, so outthinking them would be even more difficult. But not--surely not--impossible.

"All right," Jedao said, willing his heartbeat to slow down. "I'm listening."

"He's yours for the duration," Khiaz said to Kujen with that offhandedness that Jedao remembered so well, and had learned to dread. Surely this Kujen couldn't be worse than the Shuos heptarch.

He would have cause to rue that thought in the days to come.

"Kneel," Kujen said.

Fine. Jedao could observe the forms, even if he'd been put on leave in a most irregular manner. He knelt and waited for the next order. The emotion that welled up in him was not apprehension so much as a kind of chilly anticipation. _You'll regret leaving me alive to thwart you._

Kujen's smile suggested that he could divine Jedao's thoughts on the matter. "Very good," he said after just long enough a pause to make Jedao's knees start to ache. "Do you remember the oaths you swore when you first put those gloves on?"

"How could I not?" Jedao said.

The day still burned bright in his memory. He'd been seconded as a junior lieutenant. The Kel captain who'd administered his oath had regarded him with the kind of skepticism that suggested that she didn't much trust Shuos of any stripe. Even so, Jedao's breath had caught at the flickering of the ritual four candles. _From every spark a fire_. And when the captain sheathed his hands in the half-gloves, he'd murmured the required formula, "My honor is bequeathed to the Kel," and meant it, even as his divided loyalties split his heart down the middle.

"Then I think it's past time for a reminder," Kujen said, "considering your activities during the past couple of decades."

Jedao judged that there was no safe answer to that, and waited.

"Rise," Kujen said, "and follow me."

Jedao did so, leaving Khiaz behind. He didn't like having her at his back, but there was, at least, a certain comfort in not having to look at her anymore.

If Kujen was uncomfortable that a trained killer was right behind him, he showed no sign of it. Jedao had to admire the man's confidence. Together they passed out of the makeshift bedroom with its lavender lilies and mirrors and through halls set with alcoves in which strange devices glittered. Some of them looked like surgical implements, others like sculptures made of the hearts of clocks. From time to time, Jedao glimpsed a fluttering as of trapped moths. Those turned out merely to be tapestries stirred by the circulation of air through the halls.

"Might I ask where we are, Nirai-zho?" Jedao said, as deferential as he had to be, and no more.

"The _Mantle of Stars_ ," Kujen said. "My personal voidmoth."

Jedao did some quick size estimations based on what he'd seen of the layout so far. "Where's your crew?" Not to mention the utterly wasteful use of space. Then again, he supposed a heptarch might want a luxury moth. Jedao was accustomed to the tight quarters on warmoths.

Kujen didn't pause as he led the way around yet another corner. "Elsewhere. The moth's bigger inside than outside," he said with deceptive casualness. "Prototype technology. It will be ready for the Kel in a few years, I promise."

Which was all very well, Jedao supposed, except he didn't expect to be allowed anywhere near the Kel for the foreseeable future. _Maybe I should have stuck with the original plan,_ he thought darkly. That would have meant staying in Heptarch Khiaz's clutches, however, and he knew himself well enough to realize that she would have broken him in short order. Certainly he had seen what she'd done to the rest of her toys.

Jedao desperately wanted to see some evidence that he and this supposed Nirai heptarch weren't the only ones holed up in here. Among other things, if there were people about, he might get a chance to extract information from them. Sure, he expected that there were cameras hidden everywhere, but there were ways to bypass cameras, or to make exchanges look innocuous.

Instead, they emerged at last into a receiving room lined with velvet-upholstered couches. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, rotating slowly. It flung prismatic sparks across the black walls and floor. The effect was one of starry splendor. Jedao could not remember the last time he'd seen something so absurd on a moth. He could imagine the kinds of injuries that chandelier could cause during maneuvers if the moth were hit by enemy fire.

"You're thinking something terribly unflattering about my taste in interior design," Kujen said, very dryly.

Jedao smiled crookedly at him. "Tell me what you'd rather hear from me, then, Nirai-zho."

Kujen shrugged. "I have a certain image to uphold."

"Even when nobody _knows_ you're heptarch?"

"Not nobody," Kujen said with disturbing mildness. "The people who matter know."

"Am I one of those people?" Jedao asked, sardonic.

Kujen's smile flashed at him. "You will be when I'm through with you."

Well, _that_ sounded promising. "I want evidence that we're on a moth at all," Jedao said. He knew how to sabotage a moth, given enough time to hack the accesses.

"Certainly," Kujen said. His smile broadened. He spoke a command to the grid. The voidmoth's status panels imaged themselves around him. One of them showed the nearby systems on scan, and the fact that the moth was moving--where to, Jedao couldn't say. "You'll forgive me if I decline to show you Engineering just yet."

"I don't think _my_ forgiveness is required," Jedao said. "All right, then. Show me what you want to show me."

"Demanding, aren't you."

"If you wanted some meek soldier who'd let you walk all over him," Jedao said, "perhaps you should have picked someone else."

"Quite right," Kujen said. He wasn't offended yet, which could either have been a good sign or a very bad one. "Well, we might as well have this conversation sitting down." He sank down into the nearest couch, slouching almost artistically, and indicated that Jedao should take the seat next to his. He would have made an excellent subject of a painting, all long limbs and grace and flawless skin.

Jedao complied. If he'd meant to make a move against Kujen, he should have done it earlier. The fact that Kujen still showed no discomfort, not to mention the complete lack of visible security, worried Jedao. At this point, his best move was to gather information and hope that a viable course of action came clear.

"Refreshments?" Kujen asked.

"Yes," Jedao said, on the grounds that he couldn't refrain from food or drink forever. He'd just have to take his chances.

Kujen murmured an order to the grid. "I hope you aren't too picky."

"You haven't had to subsist on military rations anytime lately, I take it," Jedao said. He was mostly joking. The ration bars tasted universally terrible, but high table fare was usually passable.

"Not lately, no. I don't mind abusing my position to insist on better fare."

 _I imagine not,_ Jedao thought.

In short order Jedao was greeted by the first sign that other people inhabited the moth. A pair of smiling men entered with a dumbwaiter. Their matching black-and-silver uniforms declared them to be Nirai, although Jedao wasn't used to seeing Nirai so perfectly groomed. He arched an eyebrow at Kujen. _"Better fare," indeed._

The two Nirai set out two glasses of wine--no bottle--and a spread of sliced fragrant fruits, custard buns, crackers with a selection of sweet spreads, and other delicacies that Jedao had never encountered before. Admittedly, when he met a "delicacy" in the course of soldiering it was usually the result of commandeering a supply depot that someone had "neglected" to destroy because the contents were spoiled or poisoned.

Kujen didn't acknowledge the two servants. They bowed in his direction and retreated, still smiling. Only after the door had closed behind them did Kujen pick up one of the crackers and dip it in rhubarb jam. Instead of nibbling it decorously, or savoring it, he downed it with simple efficiency.

"Tell me, Jedao"--Kujen emphasized Jedao's name just slightly--"what are you thinking to accomplish?"

"High treason, if it leads to getting fed," Jedao quipped. In all honesty, he preferred heartier fare. If you tried to feed an army on dainties like this, you'd end up with a bunch of malnourished, lethargic soldiers. But he didn't know when his next feeding was scheduled, so he obligingly picked up a custard bun and demolished it. Maybe he'd better try some of the fruit, too, for the vitamins. He bet the wine was excellent, and he normally was good at holding his liquor, but decided to avoid that for the moment.

Kujen sipped his own wine. His smile had vanished at last. "You've spent a lot of time _personally_ researching heretics. Most generals leave that sort of thing to their Intelligence divisions."

"I'm still a fox," Jedao said. "Have to keep my hand in, and all that."

"Nice try," Kujen said. Another sip. "If you have so much free time that you can afford to blow it duplicating effort, Kel Command isn't keeping you busy enough."

Jedao snorted. Kel Command liked sticking him with the nastiest, most unpleasant assignments they could think of. It was almost as if they were trying to kill him off, except he kept refusing to die. Gized said, not always fondly, that that couldn't be true because even Kel Command would have given up long before now.

All that was moot unless he could figure out a way to survive Kujen, however.

"Besides," Kujen said, "if you truly cared about helping out Intelligence, you wouldn't be duplicating effort and _hiding it_ from them."

"You've got me there," Jedao said.

Kujen laid his hand on Jedao's, just at the edge of the glove, so that there was--yet--no skin-to-skin contact. Jedao stilled, wondering what was coming next. "You were planning a rebellion."

"If you're going to execute me on whatever charges," Jedao said, not reacting, "you should have done it already." Perhaps Kujen had no reason to fear the Rahal's inquisitors, given his status. Even here, though, on the heptarch's personal transport, there might be spies. Jedao always went on the assumption that there were spies.

Kujen leaned in and removed his hand, only to draw a line across Jedao's throat. "Those suicidal tendencies of yours are only going to get more and more in the way, you know." He was no longer pretending any interest in the wine.

Jedao cursed the way his pulse jumped. This reaction he wasn't able to stifle. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said sarcastically. "In the ordinary course of things, I go around with a knife and a gun and plenty of ammunition. If I wanted to off myself, it would be a trivial endeavor." Too bad that at this rate he was never going to see his Patterner 52 again. It had been Ruo's favorite model of handgun, and Jedao had carried it in his honor, even if he couldn't ever say so.

"Oh," Kujen said softly, "but you're a Shuos. You wouldn't sell your life so cheaply. Tell you what, _General_. Let's play a game."

It wouldn't have been difficult for Kujen to guess this particular weakness. Jedao had never been able to turn down a challenge. "What kind of game, Nirai-zho?"

Kujen rose, walked over to a cabinet of gleaming ebony in the corner of the room, and opened it. It contained a number of board games, most of which Jedao recognized. "Bring over that table, will you? The small one over by the wall. I'm sure its weight won't cause _you_ any problems."

Jedao kept from rolling his eyes. Foxes forbid that a heptarch do his own menial labor. The table was more substantial than its construction of fancy lattices and carvings suggested, but it wasn't actively heavy. For a moment he considered using it to brain Kujen. It would be a shame to use something this pretty as a murder weapon, though. And besides, he still had his hands.

Jedao set the table at rest in front of the couch. It would be odd playing a game side by side, as opposed to sitting across from a single opponent. Kujen hadn't indicated that he wanted the seating arrangement changed, however, so Jedao wasn't going to mess with it.

Kujen brushed by him, bearing a chess set. Jedao wasn't under any illusions that the moment of contact had been accidental. Someone who moved with that level of control didn't _accidentally_ bump into another person.

As for the chess set, Jedao immediately hungered to add it to his own collection of board games, even though he supposed he would never see it again. Chess was far older than the heptarchate, the symbology of many pieces lost to the attrition of time. For instance, Jedao wasn't sure what a bishop was, although his fellow cadets at Shuos Academy had speculated that it had something to do with Doctrine or remembrances.

Kujen's board was crafted of alternating squares of bloodwood and maple. Closer examination revealed that the woods in question had been nurtured so that the knots in the grain took the unmistakable shape of the Shuos eye. The pieces were of ebony chased with silver and ivory chased with gold.

"It's very fine work," Jedao said with appreciation. "I don't suppose there's more where that came from."

"Not anymore, no," Kujen said. "It was commissioned for another Nirai heptarch a few centuries ago, named Sharrion. The artisan who made the set is long dead."

Jedao shrugged. He didn't recognize the name, but then, Nirai history wasn't one of his specialties. "I don't know how well you play," he said, challenging Kujen in his turn.

Kujen's eyes danced. "I'm happy to give you first move advantage."

"I won't need it," Jedao said. A smarter man, he reflected, would continue to be worried. For all that Kujen was being _genial_ , that didn't make him _safe_. "Rules?"

"Let's keep it simple," Kujen said, and then Jedao knew he was truly fucked. "If I win, you answer my questions. If you win, I answer yours."

 _There has to be a catch,_ Jedao thought. Aloud, he said, "That's all very well, but answers won't do me any good when I'm being handed over to the Vidona to be tortured on the next remembrance."

"Oh, you want _assurances_ ," Kujen said. "Well, now. If you want more of a reward, you're going to have to--increase the stakes."

 _There_ was the catch. "Increase how?"

Kujen flicked a stray curl back from his brow and gave Jedao a testing sideways look. "Make me an offer."

That put him in a vulnerable position. Given the circumstances, though, there wasn't much to be done for it. "I don't lose my battles," Jedao said, hard and intent. "Kel Command has benefited greatly from it. You could, too. If I lose, I'll be your gun."

"And if you win--"

"My continued life, _away_ from the Vidona. That's all." He couldn't ask for much more than that. Either Kujen would be intrigued enough by the offer to keep him around, eventually giving him an opening, or Jedao was screwed anyway.

Kujen was considering him with a predator's satisfaction. "And what need do I have for a general?" he inquired. "I'm just a glorified engineer."

Jedao doubted _that_. "You must have _something_ in mind," he retorted, "or you wouldn't have bothered bringing me here in the first place."

"Quite right," Kujen said. "You may set up the pieces."

Jedao blinked and tried to ignore the sudden thrill that ran through him at the prospect of testing himself against a new opponent. He told himself that was all it was. "Yours too?"

"Yes." With that, Kujen leaned back on his elbow as if settling in to watch.

Jedao started with white. He was hotly aware of Kujen's measuring gaze as he removed each piece and placed it on its square. Irrationally, he was worried about leaving his fingerprints on them. _If I were a Kel that wouldn't be an issue._ Then again, a Kel--a Kel of the old school, anyway--wouldn't have been caught in high treason.

"Has anyone ever told you," Kujen said, quite out of nowhere, "that you have beautiful hands?"

So this was going to be one of _those_ games, along with everything else. This didn't surprise Jedao. He'd alluded to it with his offer. _I'll be your gun._

He ignored the rush of heat to his groin and tried not to think about how long it had been. In particular, it had been especially long since anyone had simulated interest in him without being paid to. He told himself that Kujen might not be getting paid in a monetary sense, but his "interest" was artifice. It helped less than Jedao had hoped.

"No one's complimented my looks lately," Jedao said ruefully. He'd never been the pretty one in the family. He fingered the base of his palm. "You can't see it because of the glove, but I've a scar there."

"I have always liked scars," Kujen said, and let the statement linger there.

 _I bet you do._ "I have plenty for your gratification," Jedao said, on the grounds that any distraction was a good distraction. "I'm afraid they're all out of sight, though." He wasn't sure why he'd never had all the ones that crisscrossed his body removed. Since it wasn't exactly like he was going to parade naked in front of everyone, it hadn't seemed important. He didn't say the obvious, that _all out of sight_ could be remedied easily enough.

Finally Jedao put the last piece in place, the black king. He admired the perfect symmetry of the game board with its neatly arrayed ranks. It would be spoiled soon enough.

"Go on," Jedao said, "I've never played this particular game against a heptarch. I'm curious what opening you'll choose."

Kujen just _happened_ to lean in as he reached for his queen's pawn and moved it two spaces. He didn't look down at the board, although he managed to center the pawn precisely.

Jedao inhaled more deeply than he'd intended to and realized that Kujen was wearing perfume, a deep, smoky musk, so thoroughly blended that Jedao couldn't recognize the other notes. He suppressed the urge to savor the fragrance. Instead, he advanced his king's knight. He had always liked knights, which was perhaps a weakness.

Kujen advanced another pawn. "You do have the most beautiful hands," he said, out of nowhere.

"I would have thought," Jedao said, sardonic, "that you could have your choice of aesthetic objects." Which was a marginally more tactful way of saying "playthings." A pawn this time.

"It's so much more fun when people volunteer," Kujen said. He moved his queen's knight.

Jedao threatened the knight with his bishop. "How many 'volunteers' do you normally meet?"

"They're rare in my line of work," Kujen said, unembarrassed. Again without looking at the board, he moved one of his own pawns. "You're the closest I've seen in a while."

Jedao laughed. "If you get most of them by drugging and kidnapping them, your idea of 'volunteer' is warped." Another pawn.

Kujen threatened Jedao's bishop with a pawn. "Free will is overrated," he said, lashes lowering.

It was odd that Kujen had complimented Jedao on _his_ hands, Jedao mused. Kujen had hands that a musician would envy, strong yet slender, except without the calluses. Jedao wondered for a moment what those fingertips would feel like trailing over his skin.

"You must hate knights a lot," Jedao remarked, and captured the knight with his bishop.

Kujen's eyes upon him were intent. "Perhaps," Kujen said, his voice deepening just slightly, "I know better than to rely on would-be paladins." He retaliated by taking the bishop with his pawn, then set the captured piece next to the board with a soft click. "You used to use a Knight of Eyes as your significator when you cast fortunes at Shuos Academy, didn't you?"

Jedao went rigid for a moment, then reminded himself to breathe. _Don't show weakness._ Either Kujen had been diving deep into Jedao's profile, or he'd been watching Jedao for quite some time. He advanced a pawn two squares.

"I've always wondered why you took such an ill-omened card as the Deuce of Gears as your emblem," Kujen said. "The Knight of Eyes would at least have been appropriate to your station." Kujen took the opportunity to capture one of the pawns with one of his own.

"A station I no longer hold," Jedao said. He cocked an eyebrow at Kujen's resulting doubled pawns. Not that that position was going to last long. He captured one of them with a pawn.

"Well," Kujen said, bringing up his bishop almost nonchalantly, "your career needn't end so precipitously as all that."

Jedao shivered in spite of himself. "If you hope to convince me to throw the match--"

Kujen laughed. "My dear, I won't _need_ to."

There were two ways he could take that. _Focus._ He castled.

"I'll give you a chance at that other knight," Kujen murmured, and moved accordingly. He rested a fingertip on the knight. "Kel Command doesn't realize how narrowly they escaped, you know."

"Escaped?" Jedao asked. Time to shore up his defenses on his queen's side. He moved up a pawn. "I don't--"

Kujen castled as well, but he placed both king and rook with emphatic clicks. Jedao winced. "If you'd been made an instructor at Kel Academy like you requested, you'd be well on your way to having formed a cadre of loyal insurrectionists. Do you think I haven't noticed the way you draw your soldiers to you?"

"Nice of you to be paying attention to Kel Command's job instead of doing your own," Jedao shot back. He considered for a moment, then dangled his queen's bishop before Kujen.

"I didn't realize all generals were so opinionated," Kujen said, mildly enough. Obligingly, he fell for the bait by capturing Jedao's second bishop with one of his own.

Jedao fell upon the bishop with his knight, completing the exchange. Still, he couldn't help frowning. That had gone too smoothly. "Only on special occasions." It came out sounding too much like _only for you_ , and he scarcely knew this man.

Kujen moved his remaining bishop up with a flick of his fingers. "How special?"

Jedao couldn't help the thrill that ran through him at Kujen's low voice. "If you win," he said, "you can have all the opinions out of me you like." He advanced his queen by a single square, daring Kujen with his eyes: _Can you?_

A pawn this time. Kujen's expression remained unruffled. "My dear, I should warn you that I always get what I want. It may take some setup, but I'm willing to wait."

"I don't believe there's such a thing as always winning," Jedao said. He surveyed the board, then nudged his king's rook where it could do him some good.

At last Kujen brought his queen up from the rear. "That's an interesting position from a man famous for winning all his battles."

"There's winning battles," Jedao said, "and then there's winning wars." He did the expected and threatened the white queen with the pawn he had in position.

"For a man of your intelligence," Kujen said, leaning forward, "you have remarkably narrow vision." The queen retreated, but he placed a hand lightly on Jedao's knee. "Did you think you were going to _fight_ your way through all the heptarchate's myriad worlds? Unite them under your banner?"

Jedao didn't look at Kujen's hand. "I'm sorry, were we beginning the interrogation already?"

"Do pardon me." Kujen withdrew his hand.

Jedao immediately wished he hadn't said anything. That simple touch had been more sensual than it had any right to be. He returned his attention to the game and moved the queen's knight back to the first rank.

Kujen slid his queen's rook next to his king's rook. "It also hasn't escaped my notice," he said, "that you gave up the easy, comfortable, obvious way to reform our nation."

"'Comfortable' is a matter of opinion," Jedao said at his most neutral. The knight again. He had always enjoyed maneuvering them.

Kujen seemed to be having similar thoughts, for he moved a knight as well. "I am aware of my colleague's appetites," Kujen said, which was a fine euphemism for those who cared about such things. "It is a pity you let her get in your way."

Still the same knight, although it wasn't going to be enough. Those central pawns of Kujen's were bad news for Jedao. "I'm not sure what to make of your loyalties," Jedao said. While he knew the heptarchs often squabbled among themselves, he had expected them to feel some form of mutual self-interest.

A pawn this time. "I'm not opposed to certain kinds of change," Kujen said, which might or might not have been true. "Whatever the Rahal and Vidona would have you believe, the heptarchate has not always looked the way it does now."

"I'd guessed that much," Jedao said. Taking advantage of the defense afforded him by his most forward pawn, he dangled his knight in front of Kujen's queen. Worth a try, anyway. "It's hard not to soldier in all the different places that Kel Command has sent me and figure out that the historians leave out a hell of a lot."

"You have no idea," Kujen murmured. He moved a pawn up to accompany its comrade. Then he returned his hand to its previous position on Jedao's knee as though it _belonged_ there. Or, more accurately, as if Jedao belonged to him.

 _Fuck it,_ Jedao thought, and swooped ahead with his queen.

The moment he let go of the piece, Kujen caught Jedao's hand. This time his finger grazed the bare skin where the half-glove ended and Jedao's index finger began. Without warning, Kujen hooked his thumb into the cuff of Jedao's glove and pulled it back enough to expose the scar. Jedao choked back a gasp in lieu of his usual response, which would have been a counterattack at the affront to his honor. Unfazed, Kujen brought Jedao's hand up to his mouth and kissed the scar.

Then, without letting go, Kujen advanced the same pawn. Kujen said, in a purr, "I should also have warned you that I never play fair."

 _Don't let him see that he's rattled you--_ It was too late for that. To say nothing of the fact that his king's knight wasn't doing him much good. He moved it closer the center files, although the room around him had gone bright and dark, as though the chandelier's prismatic sparks were on the verge of opening the door to some forbidden secret.

The safe, predictable thing to do would have been to snatch his hand back. Jedao hadn't, though. He hadn't because he hadn't _wanted_ to. Kujen already knew that. The damage was done.

Willing his traitor heart to stop hammering, to say nothing of all the blood that had rushed to his cock, Jedao said, "If I came into this expecting you to _play fair_ , Nirai-zho, the Shuos should kick me out effective immediately."

 _Note to self,_ Jedao thought darkly, _see courtesans more often. Or pay for better ones._ You'd think he was an adolescent all over again, the way he was reacting.

Kujen's queen retreated from Jedao's knight, even though it posed no threat. Kujen still hadn't let go of Jedao's hand. "Before we're done," he said, every word a promise, "you'll be begging to unglove for me."

Jedao freed his hand with an effort, but not before Kujen saw it trembling. _Make some move, any move._ Yes, that pawn would do. "I would have thought that a heptarch would be jaded to _begging_ ," he said. The thought occurred to him that Kujen might be a psych surgeon and not an engineer. Things could get a lot worse.

Kujen shored up his center pawn defense. "I've broken a lot of people," he said all too casually. "It's been quite a while since I did it the hard way, without chemical aids."

"Too late for that," Jedao said.

Kujen made a dismissive gesture. "Those weren't psych surgery drugs. They just knocked you out, and they've already worn off."

Jedao's turn to try to make something of his pawns. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"This isn't a question whose answer you have to tell me, but be honest with yourself." Kujen took Jedao's pawn _en passant_ , which Jedao had resigned himself to. "Wouldn't it be a relief to follow someone else's orders for once? In truth, not this sham of obedience you've been selling to Kel Command?"

"If only I had leaders worth following," Jedao whispered, because the pressure of all those years of plotting could no longer be borne. He hesitated before retaliating against the pawn with his knight.

Undeterred, Kujen advanced the next pawn. His fingertip lingered on its crown, circled it in a subtly obscene caress. Jedao couldn't help imagining that same hand caressing his cock instead. "That's not what you want."

"Isn't it."

Kujen spoke over him, relentless. "You've made a shambles of your life, General. The best of the Kel are about honor, service, loyalty. You've given them victory after victory--but they're all hollow, aren't they? Because your honor is false, your service is pretense, and your loyalty--well."

The moment Kujen removed his fingertip from the pawn, Jedao snatched up his central rook and pounced on Kujen's exposed rook. He was going to lose his, to say nothing of the vulnerability of his king, but he didn't care at this point. "Do you have something better to offer me?" Jedao said bitterly.

Sure enough, Kujen went after the rook. "Do you want me to answer that question if you win, or if you lose?" Kujen said archly.

Jedao growled and moved his remaining rook to block what would otherwise be Kujen's clear path to a check. "It's your move."

Of course, that didn't prevent Kujen from advancing his rook up the file, stopping where one of his pawns could defend it. Kujen was smiling again. "I do enjoy a good fight."

Time to make the exchange. Jedao took the white rook with his own. Kujen, in turn, captured Jedao's rook with the waiting pawn. As a precaution, Jedao moved his king up.

"War isn't the only way to change a society," Kujen said, "although we can do it that way if you insist." This time he moved his queen.

When had this become "we"? "The game's not over yet," Jedao said. He withdrew his queen diagonally to the first rank where it would do him more good. It had been languishing at the periphery of the board too long anyway. He might as well use it to blockade that damned passed pawn.

"If you insist," Kujen said, good-humored. His voice didn't change as he went on, "I've always wanted to know--whose name did you cry out the night Khiaz took you in that Kel uniform of hers?" He stroked his queen suggestively before moving it up behind the now-blocked pawn, incidentally pinning Jedao's knight. "My informants had conflicting reports on the matter. Kel Gized's, perhaps?"

Jedao wasn't aware of having surged to his feet. Yet here he was, looking down at Kujen with his hands balled uselessly at his sides. "If you are impugning my chief of staff's honor--" _Stop it,_ said a last sane part of his mind, _she can't help you here, none of the Kel can._

Kujen's eyes widened. He managed to give the impression that he was the one in control even though Jedao was standing above him. "My dear, do pay attention. I didn't impugn Gized's honor, I impugned _yours_. And before you challenge me to a duel, you're already in the middle of a match. Sit down."

 _Why am I obeying him?_ Jedao wondered as he sat down.

He knew the answer. He liked obeying Kujen, for all his gestures of rebellion. And Kujen had figured it out, and was going to use it against him, over and over.

Jedao brought up his queen. It was satisfying to imagine it looming over the still-blocked pawn.

Kujen responded by threatening it with his bishop. "You're going to regret that," Kujen said. "I mean that in the kindest way possible."

Kujen hooked Jedao into an embrace, fingers twining behind Jedao's neck. Jedao groaned at the heat of contact, the way Kujen was pressing himself against Jedao, infinitely pliant. "Concede, and ask for my mercy," Kujen said into Jedao's ear. One of his hands descended, unerringly found Jedao's erection, and stroked it lingeringly. Jedao's hips bucked. "I will only ask three times. This is the first."

 _I am not so green as to yield to this,_ Jedao told himself with less conviction than he would have liked. "No," he said, then, more strongly, "No."

Kujen disentangled himself with such sudden thoroughness that it was as though Jedao had been embracing a ghost. "Then it's your move."

Distracted, Jedao moved his queen to capture the bishop without thinking. Kujen's low chuckle made him realize his error. He'd broken his own blockade of Kujen's sixth-rank pawn.

Kujen caught his gaze and held it as he advanced his knight. "Your move again."

Jedao had to get rid of that knight. He used the pawn to do so rather than his own knight, which was still pinned by that damn white queen.

But that meant Kujen's queen could move in, and it did. "Check," Kujen said. He'd forked the king and Jedao's remaining knight. This time when Kujen touched Jedao, it was at the collar. He traced a line exactly over the scar at Jedao's neck, the one Jedao hadn't told him about. Then again, anyone who had followed Jedao's dueling career knew about that scar. "Concede. I might yet give you what you want, if not what you need."

Jedao made the mistake of looking, really looking, into Kujen's eyes. They were hot and merciless and utterly compelling. He could lose himself in those eyes. But he wasn't ready to give up yet. "No," he said. Unsteadily, he moved his king out of check.

Kujen did the obvious thing. His queen took Jedao's knight. "Check. This is the last time I will ask. If you refuse me this time, nothing will be left to you but begging."

"Fuck you," Jedao said succinctly. He removed his king from check again.

"That might be on the menu, yes."

Jedao swallowed dryly and failed to keep himself from speculating as to what Kujen's tastes might be.

Unimpeded, Kujen's pawn advanced to the seventh rank.

Jedao's queen threatened it there, but he was running out of options. Instead, he moved his queen in the other direction. "Check," he said. It was a futile gesture and he knew it.

Kujen negligently moved his king out of check. "Try again," he said, almost kindly.

Jedao's queen tracked the king. "Check."

Once more Kujen removed himself from check. "Is that the best you can come up with?"

Jedao tried again. "Check."

By now Kujen's king had advanced far enough to threaten one of Jedao's surviving--and undefended--pawns.

Again. "Check." Jedao was grimly aware that he was about to run out of checking moves, or other good options, for that matter.

Kujen's king took the pawn.

Jedao wasn't about to bring his queen into range of Kujen's queen. He was forced to withdraw. Kujen moved his king back to the fourth rank. Jedao moved his queen up. "Check."

This time Kujen blocked him with a pawn. "I hope you have more imagination in this in bed," Kujen said teasingly. "Unless you're hoping I'll provide all the imagination."

A flush crept up the back of Jedao's neck. An image flashed unbidden into his mind: himself standing before Kujen, slowly stripping in response to Kujen's commands, exposing the scars--

_No._

His will was eroding. Clenching his jaw, Jedao studied the board, wondering if there was anything left to salvage. If only he hadn't let himself get distracted earlier--

No point capturing the offending pawn. It was adjacent to the king, so Jedao would only lose his queen to no end. In increasing desperation, he looked at each piece in turn, although by the time it came to that it was inevitably too late. He saw no way out.

 _And maybe you like it that way,_ said a whisper in his mind.

Jedao tipped his king over. "I concede," he said. At least his voice remained steady.

Kujen made no move to clear the chess set. "What is it you're so eager for, _fledge_?" he said.

It wasn't as if Jedao could hide his arousal at this point. He did, however, question Kujen's priorities. Shouldn't Kujen be asking about the extent of Jedao's treachery?

Kujen slapped Jedao full across the face. "That was a question. Or are you reneging already?"

The straightforward transaction of pain only roused him more. "No, Nirai-zho," Jedao said, tasting blood. Desire roughened his voice. "I want you." Maybe if he spoke plainly, unprepossessingly, he could mitigate the damage he'd done himself.

"That much is obvious," Kujen said dryly. "What is it you want me to do to you?"

Jedao swallowed once, painfully. He'd lost the game. That wasn't, however, the damning part. After all, he had spent his entire adult life lying to Kel Command, to his comrades, to the soldiers under his command. He'd joined the military with the express purpose of destroying the government it served. More lying should have been easy. No one in their right mind would expect a trained Shuos to honor a pledge that disadvantaged him.

Except this once, Jedao did want to honor the pledge, despite the cost. He had always admired the purity of Kel ideals. He'd sometimes even wished he could have been a Kel himself.

This was exactly the wrong time to perform a volte-face.

He was going to do it anyway.

"Destroy me," Jedao said, the world roaring in his ears. "Make me enjoy it."

Kujen took Jedao's hand and rose, drawing Jedao with him. This time he didn't stop with an embrace, but kissed Jedao full on the mouth. He tasted of wine, more sweet than bitter. His tongue entered Jedao's mouth, and Jedao sucked on it. Just when Jedao began to lose himself in the sensation and the way he was being entered, Kujen drew back and nipped Jedao's lower lip, drawing blood.

"It never pays to get too comfortable," Kujen said. "You should know that by now."

"Nirai-zho," Jedao said, savoring the mixed taste of blood and wine.

"Come over this way," Kujen said, directing Jedao away from the couch and repositioning him at right angles to it, next to the table with its completed chess match and the toppled black king. "Take off your clothes. Leave the gloves on."

Jedao bit back a moan. He didn't think it was possible to get any harder. At least undressing would make his erection more manageable. Trembling with eagerness, he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Once he'd undone them all, he let it drop. He shivered as the cool air hit his skin.

Kujen made an appreciative sound, possibly genuine, when he saw the extent of Jedao's scars. There were old dueling slashes, bullet wounds, the flash-burn of grenades, and more. Then Jedao removed his shoes and the rest of his clothes, letting them fall in a heap next to the shirt. His cock ached. Kujen smiled slowly, and Jedao's cock bobbed with the sudden jumping of his pulse. He wished he dared to stroke himself, but he wasn't sure what Kujen had in mind.

"Kneel," Kujen said.

Jedao knelt.

"Here's the thing about psych surgery," Kujen said, "which I have been practicing for a very long time."

That was a peculiar statement, considering that Kujen looked, if anything, rather younger than Jedao himself. But Kujen came up to his side and reached down to stroke the line of his jaw, lingering over the faint shadow of stubble. The slow, casual caress, combined with Jedao's maddening desire to _thrust_ , made it difficult to think clearly.

_Who am I kidding? That's been going on for a while now._

Kujen kept speaking. "People are under the misconception that psych surgery drugs make the process faster. That's not quite it. The drugs are necessary to make people go against their natural inclinations in a given context. But people will do anything, become anything, if you make it easy for them. In your case, General, you're going to do what I want because it happens to coincide with what _you_ want."

Jedao leaned into Kujen's touch. Kujen let him. Rewarded him, even, by tracing his lips. Jedao kissed Kujen's fingertips as they went by, wanting to show his appreciation.

"You're wondering why I haven't called in an inquisitor," Kujen said. This was not quite accurate. Jedao had mostly forgotten about the dangers of interrogation. "The truth is, I admire your ambition. It just happens to be misdirected."

Kujen disengaged abruptly. Jedao moaned. "Stay there," Kujen said, and Jedao subsided. Footsteps, then rummaging sounds, came from behind Jedao. "I have to wonder, exactly what did you plan to do with the heptarchate after you conquered it? Assuming you had a way to conquer it, considering how big it is. It's not like you could get yourself installed as a high general, you know. Those are always Kel."

"I know," Jedao said, piecing together his thoughts despite the throbbing of his cock. It was considered a minor miracle when a non-Kel made general. He'd always known his career would have a ceiling. "I didn't want to be a high general anyway. I wanted to replace the existing government with a new one."

"With yourself as dictator?"

"No," Jedao said. He heard more rummaging, then footsteps again. Kujen's shadow swallowed him. Kujen himself must be standing behind him. "Never that. I wanted a better government. But I don't have any interest--"

Kujen's laughter almost made Jedao turn his head. "Now this I hadn't anticipated," Kujen said. "What charming naïveté. My dear, do you think that any other ruler would ever rest easy after you'd committed a coup on their behalf? You'd either turn tyrant in self-defense, or wind up assassinated for your trouble. And then it'd all revert to the same thing, or something worse."

"There has to be something better," Jedao said. "A world without remembrances."

"I imagine there is," Kujen said, "but you're not going to find it at the end of a gun. Or even many guns. Even guns as expertly wielded as yours." He came up to Jedao's side again and bent to press a kiss to the top of Jedao's head.

 _Does he know?_ Jedao thought, violently, viscerally reminded of the way Ruo used to do the same thing, the same spot, that dizzying contact. Kujen had to know. He wouldn't be doing it otherwise.

While Jedao was still recovering from the barrage of memories, Kujen swept the chess pieces aside, leaving the board askew. They scattered across the length of the room. _Don't,_ Jedao almost said at the brutal gesture. He could guess how much such an exquisite set was worth, especially an antique. The next thing he knew, however, he was being shoved down so his face was pressed against the board. One stray knight, which Kujen had missed, dug into his cheek. The pain only turned him on more.

Moments after that, oil warmed precisely to skin temperature drizzled down his crack and into his asshole. Kujen slowly inserted one finger, then another, teasing, massaging. Jedao moaned again. "Please, Nirai-zho," he breathed.

"I couldn't hear you," Kujen said, as if there was any question as to what Jedao had said. He reached down with his other hand and cupped Jedao's balls, hefted them.

Jedao's hips bucked. One of his elbows banged against the edge of the table. " _Nirai-zho_ \--"

"Again," Kujen said, relentless.

Jedao forced himself to speak more loudly. "Please. Please, Nirai-zho. I want you inside me."

Kujen withdrew his fingers. A moment later, Jedao felt Kujen's hard cock pressing against his ass. "Yes," Jedao said, "like that, I want your dick in me, all of it, _please_ \--"

"You're going to have to do something more for me," Kujen said.

Jedao pushed back against Kujen's cock, trying to get it to enter him. "Tell me, Nirai-zho."

" _Take your gloves off_ ," Kujen said, both pleased and cruel, "and tell me you want it. That you want to serve me."

Jedao understood what was expected of him. He removed first one glove, then the other, folding them properly, and set them on the side of the table. "I belong to you," he said, half a gasp. " _I'm your gun_ \--"

Jedao didn't get to finish the sentence before Kujen rammed his cock into him. While Jedao had had rough lovers before, it had been a while since he'd indulged in this particular act. He cried out as Kujen bottomed out, balls deep. The sensation was almost too much for him.

"You like it that much, do you?" Kujen said, and ground Jedao's face further into the chessboard. He pulled out slowly, inch by inch, and Jedao cried his name, shoving back again in a desperate attempt to regain the sensation of being filled. Satisfied by Jedao's response, Kujen began thrusting in and out in earnest, without any consideration for Jedao's comfort. That only had the result of increasing Jedao's pleasure.

All Jedao could think about was getting fucked, used like one of Khiaz's toys. With Khiaz, though, he hadn't wanted it. This time, with Kujen, he wanted it very much indeed.

Kujen increased the tempo. One hand gripped Jedao's shoulder, the other his head. Each time he thrust, Jedao's head banged against the chessboard. Jedao heard himself gasping Kujen's title over and over again, to the point where the syllables blurred into a profane chant.

When Kujen kissed the top of his head again, Jedao flashed back to the very last time he'd made love to Ruo. Nighttime, behind a flowerbed in one of the gardens where anyone could have come across them, crushing the flowers to intoxicating fragrance. Past and present blurred. The pressure in Jedao's balls built as he started to lose control.

With startling strength, Kujen yanked Jedao up just in time to aim him toward the chessboard. Jedao shouted inarticulately as he came all over it. At the same time, he felt Kujen spurting deep within him.

"You can have this again, and again, every time you return from battle under the heptarchate's sign," Kujen said, coaxing. He withdrew and lowered Jedao to the floor next to the table with its spattering of spunk. "All you have to do is beg for it."

Jedao thought of Ruo, and Sereset, and the others he had lost over the years, and to whom he had sworn to take the heptarchate down. But when all was said and done, Kujen was here, and the others had been dead for years. There was no longer any point in carrying out the crusade, not the way he'd originally conceived it. Perhaps he could wield influence a different way.

"Yes," Jedao said, and knelt once more before Kujen. He knew when he was beaten.


End file.
